


you light me up

by oakest



Series: he’s baby, your honor [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, So much hurt/comfort, check under your chair there’s h/c for you too, h/c for Sokka, h/c for Zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakest/pseuds/oakest
Summary: Sokka isn't sure if Zuko even knows he's doing it; the heat thing. It normally happens whenever they make out like this, but once, all it took was Sokka smiling dopily at him after winning a sparring match for Zuko to release a major heatwave. Sokka has never said anything about it, mostly out of fear that if Zuko gets too self-conscious about this, he'll stop doing it. And Sokka most definitely does not want Zuko to stop.-Zuko takes “hot and bothered” to new levels and bends unconsciously.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: he’s baby, your honor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948834
Comments: 21
Kudos: 200





	you light me up

Zuko feels like he’s on fire.

Sokka’s kisses always light him up, shock his nerves, but there’s something about this particular make out session that’s burning under Zuko's skin.

There’s usually a clandestine, stolen feel to their time together, with Zuko being constantly busy with Fire Lord duties. But this is no stolen moment in a dark red hallway - this is Zuko and Sokka, alone, together, late at night, in Zuko’s chambers. A _boy_. _In his room_.

Sometimes, when he’s an hour into an all day meeting about reallocating resources and budget cuts and treaty writing, Zuko has the overwhelming feeling that he’s dressed up in somebody else's robes. He wants to flick the foreheads of everyone deferring to him, and tell them that he’s just a teenager, they’ve got to stop bowing at him like that. But all he can do is bow back, sigh, and move to the next item on the agenda.

Today’s meeting was particularly long, and a Sokka had whisked him away the moment he was able to finally get his clutches on his boyfriend. When they scurried back to his chambers, he wondered if the guards stationed by the heavy doors could hear the giggling that erupted once they got inside. Zuko’s cheeks flushed because he had a _boy_ in his _room_. Sokka called him adorable, and it wasn’t too long before they wound up tangled together on Zuko's silk sheets.

“What are you thinking about?” Sokka asks, and Zuko's eyes snap open, focusing on Sokka on top of him. He didn’t realize that Sokka's lips had left his, but now he whines at the loss of contact. Sokka placatingly caresses across his good cheek, and Zuko hums happily. Sokka smiles at the way his boyfriend unconsciously leans into the touch, and he's unable to resist another kiss. But it doesn’t last long, and he pulls himself away to repeat, “What are you thinking of? C'mon, you seem distracted.”

Zuko shakes his head. “Thinking ’bout you,” he says breathlessly, and leans up to reconnect their lips. Sokka gives a low hum like he doesn’t quite buy it, but Zuko’s thin lips are opening to allow access to his mouth and Sokka has better things to focus on. Like taking the hand that's cupping Zuko’s jaw and threading it through his hair. Like exploring the warmth of Zuko’s mouth with his tongue.

They go on like this for what feels to Zuko like a languid eternity and what feels to Sokka like barely enough. They’re both out of breath, coming up for air and resting their foreheads together. Sokka takes advantage of the moment to peck a kiss on Zuko's nose, and revels in the blush that blossoms out from the contact. It makes Sokka’s chest swell to watch the Fire Lord turn bashful and eager in his hands.

“You’re so cute,” Sokka tells him dreamily. Zuko buries his head in Sokka's tunic, eliciting a laugh. “What? You are.”

Zuko mumbles into his chest - something that includes _stop_ and _I'm not a girl_ \- but the warmth radiating off of Zuko gives him away. He always does this; firebends unconsciously like his emotions are just too much, too hot to stay within his body. Sokka kisses the top of Zuko’s head, lips pressing into soft black hair as he says, “So,” _kiss_ , “damn,” _kiss_ , “cute.” At the word “cute” again, Zuko emanates enough heat to make Sokka's eyes water a little.

Sokka isn’t sure if Zuko even knows he’s doing it; the heat thing. It normally happens whenever they make out like this, but once, all it took was Sokka smiling dopily at him after winning a sparring match for Zuko to release a major heatwave. Sokka has never said anything about it, mostly out of fear that if Zuko gets too self-conscious about this, he’ll stop doing it. And Sokka most definitely does _not_ want Zuko to stop. He takes pride in every hot, heavy breath he elicits from Zuko, and wastes no more time trying to pull out a few more.

Sokka is sweating before long, but still, Zuko seems oblivious to the effect he has on the room’s temperature or on Sokka’s heart. Sokka is tempted to peel off his tunic before he sweats right through it, but hesitates. They’ve done some wondering hands before that definitely slipped onto bare skin, but he isn’t sure what would happen if he actually took his shirt off. Zuko has seen him shirtless and sweaty before, in sparring matches against each other when they were up close and personal, no less. But he never undressed with Suki without it leading to more. He doesn’t know how this all works when it's a guy instead. Do the same rules apply? He feels like the same rules should apply.

“Now you're the distracted one,” Zuko breaks Sokka out of his mental tug of war. Sokka smiles, but Zuko is letting himself fall fully back on the bed, looking a little hurt. His fingers hover over Sokka’s back where moments ago they gripped and pulled.

“No, no, I’m not,” Sokka says, but Zuko gives him a look. Sokka sighs. “Okay, yes. No. Maybe a little.” The air around them is rapidly cooling, and Sokka hates it. He understands why little things set Zuko off like this, he really does. But he still hates it. He surges forward to capture Zuko's lips in another kiss, and that brings back some warmth. But Zuko is still only half heartedly responding, so Sokka decides honestly is the best policy with Zuko.

“Wanna know what I was thinking about?”

Zuko looks relieved at this, eagerly nodding, like the question was already in his head but he'd been too afraid to ask. Sokka notes that for later; they’ll work on that. But for now: “I was thinking about taking our shirts off.”

Zuko sharply inhales, sucking nearly all of the heat out of the room. Sokka starts to panic. _Too fast, too fast, fuck, he doesn't want that_. Then - Zuko exhales and it’s like a blast from the sun itself is washing over Sokka.

He chuckles, closing his eyes to protect himself. When he opens them again, Zuko’s are closed instead, with his mouth falling slightly open, and Sokka just knows what he’s picturing. He smiles, overtaking Zuko's mouth once more.

“Would you like that?” He stays just close enough that his lips brush Zuko’s with every word. Zuko keens and presses his entire body up against Sokka, and Sokka would laugh at Zuko’s desperation if it weren't so damn arousing. “Would you?”

“Yes, yes please,” Zuko responds, panting. Though Sokka can’t bring himself to laugh, he does smirk with pride. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Sokka isn’t sure if the resulting heatwave is a product of the royal title or a reaction to Sokka’s fingers nimbly untying the dark red fabric around Zuko’s waist, but he loves it all the same. The fabric falls open, and Zuko has to help pull the robe down over his shoulders. It ends up kind of awkwardly pinned beneath his hips, but his arms are now bare, and Sokka is placing the most distracting kisses along his shoulders. Zuko feels his every nerve light up as Sokka’s hands slide up under his shirt and across his ribs. He wonders if Sokka can feel his heart pounding there.

Sokka can feel nothing but all-encompassing warmth.

It takes some more awkward maneuvering, and Zuko knows his hair definitely gets mussed up in the process, but he’s finally topless. Sokka trails his mouth along his jaw, down his Adam’s apple, eventually down to the defined lines of Zuko’s abs. Zuko is secretly extremely proud of the shape his body is in, and watching Sokka worship his heaving chest is more gratifying than he could’ve imagined. He’s grown into his once lanky limbs in a way he likes to think of as graceful. Not that anyone would ever, ever hear him use that word. Still, he feels good. But then Sokka’s teeth scrape gently against his collarbone, and Zuko suddenly can’t focus on himself anymore. He grips onto Sokka’s broad shoulders, feeling the muscle flex there. He wants more than anything for Sokka’s strong, thick muscles to press bare against his own lean body. He bunches up the fabric on the back of Sokka’s shoulders, tugging at it with a whine as Sokka kisses down his sternum again. This time, Sokka laughs.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite understand you there. What was that?” Sokka teases, coming up to kiss Zuko again while his hands take over for him, dancing across Zuko’s ribs. He can feel Zuko’s blood nearly boiling under his touch. Zuko grabs at the shirt again, and Sokka can’t help but mock. “Please, take off your shirt, Sokka? Is that what you said?”

Zuko groans at the high-pitched imitation of his voice, but nods anyways. Sokka is happy to oblige him, sitting back on Zuko’s thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head.

Zuko watches him in awe. He’s glad that Sokka is sitting just far enough back that he can’t feel the tenting of his pants, because this sight is killing him. He wants to memorize it forever: Sokka, smiling warmly down at him, shoulders wide and relaxed with pecs and abs much more defined than he remembers ever noticing before. Sokka’s bright, blinding smile turns into a mischievous smirk. “Look, I know I appear to be a precious work of art, but you _can_ touch, yanno. Actually, there’s a policy mandating it. Look and _do_ touch, please.”

Zuko laughs despite himself. “Get it? 'Cause it's usually "look and don't touch" with art? But-” Sokka doesn’t finish his explanation, because Zuko is laughing and shushing him. He beams down at Zuko, waiting expectantly. Zuko has to take a minute to steady himself, prepare himself for where this night is going.

Zuko takes a hesitant hand up to the spot just above Sokka’s hip, sliding up his side. He gains confidence feeling the smooth skin under his fingers, and is pressing with much more force by the time he reaches the top of Sokka's ribs. His other hand comes to grip Sokka's other hip, but Sokka yelps and pulls back.

The realizations hit him in waves.

First, he registers Sokka’s face, wincing with tears slipping out of his eyes. That’s enough to punch the air out of him.

Then, he sees the tan of Sokka’s skin turning red, a thick stripe up his right side and a defined handprint on his left hip. Zuko chokes. His handprint.

The final wave suffocates him when he watches the red handprint turn into a fierce welt, already going towards a whiter tint.

Sokka is still sitting on top of him, but Zuko scrambles up and back until Sokka falls to the side. Horrified, Zuko watches with eyes blown wide as Sokka hisses at the pull of his skin from the movement. His burnt skin. Zuko lets out a sob, slapping his hand over his mouth.

A whine from Sokka snaps Zuko back to reality. He reaches out to him, but Sokka flinches back.

Sometimes, important moments in your life pass you by before you know they've even happened.

This is not one of those moments.

Sokka flinching away from his touch is instantaneously burned into Zuko’s mind. He will never forget this.

Zuko swallows thickly, puts more distance between the two of them. “Guards! Emergency! Help, now!”

The imperial guards come bursting in at his call, hands poised to start bending. He can see sparks fly off Ykome’s fists, and jumps up off the bed, nearly lunging at the guard and saying in a booming voice, “No! No fire!”

They all flinch back, and Zuko swears he is going to burn himself up in his own self hatred. But that has to wait. “Help him!” He points back at Sokka, still shirtless and sitting off kilter on his bed. “Go get the physician! Help him now!”

Two of the guards scurry into the room to tend to Sokka, and the remaining two sprint away to find the physician. Zuko wipes the stupid tears off his face. He hovers as he watches his guards, of course trained in first aid in the event they needed to help Zuko or each other. They quietly talk to Sokka about his injuries and inspect them while Sokka grits his teeth. Zuko knows he’s a warrior, knows that it’s no light pain that can make someone as strong as Sokka cry and wince. The red burns are already blistering, especially over his hip and at the front of his chest where Zuko had pressed in closer.

Zuko doesn’t even realize that he’s got his hands clenched into fists until he opens them to see bloody crescent shapes where his nails had dug in. He wipes them off on his red pants, and the motion makes him suddenly very conscious of the fact that pants are all he’s wearing. He wants to grab his robe off the bed, but that would mean stepping closer to Sokka. Zuko wraps his arms tightly around his torso.

“Zuko, look at me,” Sokka’s voice is rough. Zuko’s tears leave an itchy wet patch down his cheeks. He stares resolutely at the maroon tiled floor.

Sokka sighs, and then hisses in pain. One of the guards mutters an apology, and Zuko feels the wall torches flare around him when he directs, “Don’t hurt him!”

Now Zuko is looking at Sokka. The guards stare at him in fear, hands obediently retracted from Sokka’s burns, but they may as well not be there. All Zuko can see is the way Sokka is looking at him. He’s forcing a half smile, but it keeps wavering away with every rise of his chest and stretch of his skin.

“They didn’t hurt me,” he says, nodding encouragingly at Zuko. “They didn’t. You didn’t. I’m okay, okay? You didn’t hurt me.”

Zuko shakes his head and his tears flow freely. “I hurt you.” His voice breaks on “hurt,” falling to a soft whisper. Sokka protests, tries to reach out to Zuko, but falls back and whimpers an “aa-ah.” Zuko’s heart snaps in two.

Sokka is about to say something else, but one of the guards who’d sprinted away, Tozon, reappears in the doorway. Through heavy breaths, he announces, “Dr. Aikano is on his way.”

He glances uncertainly between Sokka and Zuko, surely guessing at the situation that leads to two shirtless boys crying, one with burns up his chest. “Fire Lord, forgive me, but...” Tozon looks like he’s going to lose his courage, but when Zuko turns to look at him, he presses on, “For your safety, I must ask - was there an intruder, or-”

“No.”

Zuko has retreated into himself.

“No, I did this,” he breathes shakily, wavering voice the only indication of weakness. His shoulders are set back, standing tall as if he isn't shirtless and terrified like Sokka knows he is. Tozon bows, starting to make some sort of apology, but he’s cut off by the physician's arrival.

Aikano and a servant Zuko doesn't recognize come bustling into the room, and the guard mercifully shuts the door behind them. Zuko tries to stop crying now, but his throat stings and his vision blurs against his will. His hair is still messy in the back from where Sokka messed it up pulling his shirt off.

Aikano is quick to mutter the names of supplies to his servant, who is equally quick, though much more frantic, as he digs through the physician's bag. Once he starts applying some of the salves, Sokka sighs loudly with relief.

Sokka becomes so enraptured with the cooling pressure soothing the pulsing pain underneath that he doesn’t even notice when Zuko slips out the door.

He’d grabbed a spare robe from his wardrobe before escaping, but Zuko still feels somehow exposed without a shirt underneath. Tozon, who had been dutifully waiting by the door, tries to follow him down the hall. Zuko stops him with a simple shake of his head, carrying on with his head hung low.

He’s about to round the corner when he stops. He looks back to Tozon, still standing at attention by his door. He’s pleased that Tozon seems as attentive to guard the door when it's Sokka inside and not Zuko, but shame still roils overpoweringly in his gut.

“Tozon...” he takes a deep breath. “Please- please don’t tell anyone what you saw tonight.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

By the time Tozon is looking up from his bow, Zuko is gone.

———

Sokka may not have noticed at first, but Zuko’s absence doesn't escape him for long. He scans the room in vain, though he knows it’s pathetic of him to think that maybe his boyfriend just walked to the other side of the bed. Aikano continues his ministrations across his hip, and he tries not to squirm away at the unfamiliar touch.

Sokka latches his gaze onto Soja, one of the guards standing at the foot of the bed. “Where did he go?” He croaks, and the look Soja exchanges with Ykome tells him everything he needs to know about how desperate he sounds. He doesn't care.

“I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Will you find him? Please, he needs to be with me.” Soja bows in response, leaving Ykome and the physicians to watch over Sokka. Sokka winces when Aikano presses down on a particularly sensitive spot.

———

It isn’t easy to be an imperial guard under normal circumstances, but Agni, Soja is having a terrible fucking night.

The Fire Lord and the water tribe boy were a horribly kept secret, so of course he knew what was happening behind the doors, but to walk in on them like that- _No_. Soja shakes the image out of his head. _Uhg_. The Fire Lord’s voice, yelling and powerful, is harder to shake off. And, of course, who got sent on the impossible mission to find an angry, powerful Fire Lord who didn’t want to be found?

Yeah. Soja is having a terrible night.

He has a good idea where the Fire Lord would go, though, and Tozon had pointed him in a direction that helped narrow his possibilities. Still, it’s a big palace, and few servants could boast having the intricate knowledge of all it's hidden passages and rooms that the Fire Lord could. Soja remembers how things used to be; he remembers a decade ago when Ursa would come to him with wringing hands and ask for the same thing the water tribe boy had pleaded for: _find Zuko. Let him be with me._

Not in the guest rooms. No sign of him in the West Wing’s laundry suite, either.

If he weren’t so busy being scared of the Fire Lord becoming indignant with him upon being found, Soja would probably be jealous of the way those around the Fire Lord seem to love him so deeply. Except for the crazy sister and terrifying motherfucker of a father part, he supposed. Still. Between his mother and the water tribe boy, it was nice to see people who cared, Soja thought.

Maids’ hidden corridor is empty. He isn’t tucked away in the stairwell either, which particularly pisses off Soja, because it means he has to go all the way back up the steps to keep searching the rest of the wing. He’s not getting any younger.

When he does finally find the Fire Lord, it’s on the balcony. They’re on the highest floor of the palace, and the sprawling streets, lit by lanterns, shine beautifully below them. The wind picks up, and Soja understands why the Fire Lord would choose this place.

What does surprise him is the position the Fire Lord is in: sitting on the stone, pressed up close to the railing with his knees tucked up to his chest. With how much he’s grown over the past decade, Soja had mostly disconnected his image of the Fire Lord with the boy he knew back then. But to see him curling in on himself - it’s the perfect image of how Zuko acted as a toddler fleeing from his father. Not at all the indignant teenager he’d expected to find, who used to stand with his arms crossed and feet planted far apart.

“I thought I told you to hang back, Tozon.”

Soja bows to Zuko, though he isn’t sure why he bothers with the reflex. Zuko is still staring straight ahead.

“It's not Tozon,” Soja replies softly. This gets him enough attention for Zuko look over his shoulder. Soja bows again, but when he sees Zuko’s face fall, he wishes he hadn't opted for the formal gesture. It wasn’t like he’d ever bowed to the boy as a toddler. Zuko turns back around, looking out over the city.

Soja knows it’s a bit of a risk to sit next to the Fire Lord as if an equal, but he thinks Zuko might appreciate it, considering the circumstance. So he sits. He doesn’t say anything further; he knows Zuko will speak first, given enough space.

“Is Sokka okay?” Sokka. Soja needs to remember that name. He doesn’t think the Fire Lord would much like the title “water tribe boy.”

“Yes. He seemed well. Aikano’s treatment appeared helpful.” Deep breath. “He asked for you.”

Zuko looks up at the stars. At the moon. Silence hangs heavy in the sky, but Soja waits patiently.

After a few minutes, Zuko turns to look at Soja. Tears streak his face in the moonlight. “He- he isn’t scared of me?”

Soja smiles a sad smile. “Not at all.”

———

Sokka waits a fucking eternity for Soja and Zuko to return. It takes many reassurances from Ykome and physical restraint from Aikano to keep him from getting up and looking for Zuko himself. Sokka will never forget the look on Zuko’s face when he’d involuntarily flinched away from him, and he prays to Yue above that he can fix this mess before Zuko gets too far into his own head.

Sokka wants to cry when Soja comes back alone, explaining with a polite bow that the Fire Lord sends his best, but will be staying in guest chambers tonight. Soja shares another look with Ykome when he adds that the Fire Lord was clear that Sokka has the option to remain in the royal chambers if he should so choose, but guards would accompany him back to his own chambers if not. Sokka flops onto his back with a frustrated sigh. It still hurts to move, but Aikano’s medicine is already numbing the waves of pain.

“Jerk,” Sokka mumbles to himself. “I’m in love with a jerk.” Sokka sits up with another exasperated sigh, this time easily pushing away Aikano’s hand when he tries to stop him. Sokka grunts a little, but the bandages wrapped around his torso hold the salve against his skin, and it’s bearable.

“Alright. Which guest chambers?” The guards and physicians share a wary look. Sokka resists the urge to slap his forehead into his palm. “Yes, yes, you’re all very scared of displeasing Zuko. But I’ll just search every guest room until I find him anyways.” Sokka expects this to work, really. But the guards look at each other like they’re considering letting Sokka go on his wild raven eagle chase just to avoid culpability. _Bastards_. Fine.

“You should keep in mind that I’m not someone you want to displease, either. I’m a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Lord’s _trusted_ advisor.” Sokka emphasizes trusted with a gesture towards the bed, sheets still tangled up with Zuko and Sokka’s discarded shirts. He hates to play the my-boyfriend-is-your-boss card, except, well, he doesn’t. He beams with pride when it works.

———

Zuko shuts his eyes tightly when he hears the door creak open. It’s pitch black in this room, curtains drawn tight and torches extinguished, but Zuko recognizes those footsteps. He scrunches tighter into himself. If it didn’t make him feel so childish, he would probably pull the covers over his head, too.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Sokka says, but despite his gentle voice, the pet name sounds stilted in the dark. Zuko doesn’t answer. “Mind giving a guy a light?”

Zuko holds his breath. He will not firebend, not with Sokka in the room. He stays silent.

“Okay, that's cool, that's cool,” Sokka says, but Zuko can hear him fumbling around in the unfamiliar room. He probably assumes that this room is like Zuko’s, bed straight ahead from the door and generally bare, though still warm. Unfortunately, the guest chambers are much more elaborately decorated, and it takes a minute and a few curses before Sokka’s knees bump against the bed. The mattress dips, and Zuko does his best to crawl away.

“I want to be alone,” Zuko snaps. Sokka, unlike any sane person who would be taken aback by the harsh message, simply takes it as a win that he got a response. He mumbles to himself a little, struggling to find the top of the blanket so he can climb underneath it. Zuko tries to bite back his frustration, but he can't stand that Sokka is carrying on like nothing happened. “I said I want to be alone.”

“Yeah, well, tough blubber.” Sokka’s reply is immediate. There’s a pause, and then, in a more serious voice, “I’m not going anywhere, Zuko.”

Zuko tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but chokes on it instead. Sokka has finally maneuvered his way under the blanket and Zuko scoots further away from him. Sokka reaches his hands out, just brushing over Zuko's side and back, barely felt through his robe.

“Don’t-” is all Zuko manages, but Sokka's hands fall away instantly.

“Okay,” Sokka breathes. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay. I’m okay.” Sokka's voice is so soft that Zuko wants to cry. He does cry, a little. He knows Sokka can hear it, can feel the way his shaking shoulders must be shaking the bed. Zuko knows he can feel it because when Sokka takes deep, steadying breaths, Zuko can feel that too.

They lay there, miles apart in the same bed, for some time. Sokka falls onto his back to reduce the pain of leaning on his burns, but keeps his gaze looking towards Zuko. His eyes are starting to adjust, and though there's still not much to see in the dark, he thinks he can make out a vaguely Zuko-shaped blob. He’s startled out of his skin when the Zuko-shaped blob speaks first.

“What’s the difference?” Zuko asks meekly.

Sokka takes a long breath in. “Difference between what?” It’s not unusual for Zuko to start conversations as if the thoughts in his head are obvious, and Sokka holds his breath waiting for clarification.

“I asked you to leave me alone and you stayed anyways. But I told you not to touch and you-” Zuko doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. Sokka exhales deeply, looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Sokka says honestly. But he can tell that answer won’t satisfy Zuko, so he starts talking again, not sure where his sentence is going to end up. “I didn’t really think about it, when you told me not to touch. I just automatically pulled away. And I guess - I guess coming here was automatic, too. I don’t want you to think that you’re alone.” Sokka turns to lean on his side a little bit again. “You know you aren’t alone, right?”

Zuko laughs humorlessly. “Apparently, I don't get a choice in the matter.” There’s a little too much bitterness edging his voice for it to be all joking, but Sokka takes it in stride. Zuko admitted he isn’t alone - fucking score. He smiles at the Zuko blob.

“Damn right, you don’t.” Sokka is still beaming, and even in the dark with his back turned, Zuko can feel the pride rolling off of Sokka. He sighs.

“How do you do that?” This time, Zuko himself hears how out of context the question sounds. He rolls over towards Sokka - still a few feet between them, but facing each other now. “How do you- you can just-”

“Be strikingly beautiful, even in the dark? Make you smile at all times? I know. I’m mind-defying.” Sokka interrupts when Zuko chokes on his words.

“No, see, like that. You can just- you joke like- like there's nothing wrong."

Sokka smiles even wider, if that’s possible. “Natural talent, baby.”

Zuko is going to pretend that his heart didn’t just skip several beats at that pet name. Damn it, Sokka. Not really the moment for that.

“Listen to me,” Sokka begins, all the lightness of the previous second gone from his tone. “I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours right now.”

Zuko’s heart goes still and quiet at that. _I hate myself for hurting you_. He won't say that. _I'm terrified that your burns might scar like mine._ He won't say that either. _I see my father in myself and I would rather die than turn into him._ He will never speak those words aloud. Ever.

Against his will, Sokka’s voice jumps into his head. _I’d kill you if you killed yourself, jerk_. Zuko closes his eyes slowly. He doesn’t know when he started hearing Sokka nonsense in his head all the time, but right now, it feels like it’s always been this way. For a moment, he allows himself to picture what his life might be like if it had always been this way, if he had a Sokka growing up. Tears escape before he can stop them.

Zuko hates himself for being too cowardly to reach out to Sokka. He wants to curl up against him, but he’s terrified that his own hands will betray them again.

“Hey,” Sokka whispers, “come back to me.”

Zuko sobs.

Sokka’s heart breaks for him.

“Come to me, please, baby,” Sokka pleads, voice still quiet. He wants so desperately to just grab Zuko and hold him tight, but he knows he shouldn’t. It has to be Zuko who touches him first; he can’t force it. Zuko needs to prove to himself that he can touch Sokka.

Zuko takes his head out of his hands. He breathes so slowly that he stretches out seconds into minutes. He wonders if Sokka can feel the slowing of time or if it’s just him.

He reaches out a hand towards where he thinks Sokka is, trying desperately to make it not shake so much.

When his fingertips brush Sokka’s shoulder, Sokka gasps. Zuko jumps back.

“No, no, wait, Zuko, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Zuko is already heaving. Sokka isn’t waiting any more. He pushes himself into Zuko’s space, and even when Zuko tries to flinch away, he wraps his arms steadfast around him. “I was just surprised, baby, that’s all. You’re-” it's Sokka's turn to choke on his words. He squeezes Zuko against him, and Zuko lets his head fall into Sokka’s chest. Sokka has to choke back another gasp at the contact, not wanting to scare Zuko away.

Zuko’s skin is cold. Like, ice cold. South-pole-glacial cold.

Sokka can’t stop himself from crying. He knows Zuko can probably tell, so he grips him tighter, burns numbed enough by the medicine and the fear for Zuko that he doesn’t even think about them.

They spend the night crying in each other’s arms. They don't say much. There’s not much to say. Sokka rocks Zuko in his arms, shushing him quietly. Every time Zuko starts to calm himself and suck in deep breaths, his hand will relax and brush across some of Sokka’s bandages, and he loses it again. Sokka holds him through it all.

Zuko eventually wears himself out. He falls asleep with his legs intertwined with Sokka’s, head resting on the left side of Sokka’s chest, and arm draped across him. Sokka presses his palms tightly against Zuko’s back to keep him connected. As he slips into sleep, he starts to warm a little more, but Sokka still shivers involuntarily.

Sokka doesn’t feel like he’ll ever sleep. He’s terrified out of his mind for Zuko. He doesn’t even know if it’s safe for a normal person to be this temperature, how can Zuko survive it as a firebender? He fights with himself, unsure if he should go get the physician for Zuko. But what could the doctor do?

Eventually, with the blanket pulled tight around them, Sokka does join Zuko in sleep. Even when he isn’t awake, his body keeps a tight grip around Zuko.

———

Sokka wakes up cold and alone.

His eyes shoot open instantly, and he grabs out at empty sheets. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows, curtains open now. Zuko isn’t here.

He tries to sit up, but the adrenaline that numbed his pain last night is long gone from his system, and he cries out when the movement brings that to his attention.

He does manage to stand up, eventually. He gingerly takes himself to the window. Looking up through the tall panels of glass, he’s surprised to see that the sun is nearly at its midpoint, high in the sky. He slept much longer than he’d thought. Sokka tries to use this to soothe himself; of course Zuko wasn’t still here if it was midday, he had meetings and duties to attend to. But the lump in his throat tells him that Zuko would be long gone whether meetings had called him away or not.

———

Zuko happens to be passing in a hall when he spots Sokka turning a corner at the other end. He holds his breath and nearly trips into the imperial guards that walk in formation around him. Sokka is wearing navy blue pants, but instead of the usual sleeveless matching blue shirt, Sokka’s shoulders are draped in a Fire Nation robe, dark red with a gold belt tied loosely around his midsection. It makes sense, logically, that Sokka would need to borrow a spare shirt after leaving his in Zuko’s room last night, but his brain still short circuits at the sight of Sokka in _his_ colors. Then Zuko remembers the bandages hidden beneath that robe, and his stomach drops.

The guards surrounding his periphery act as a silent reminder that Zuko has to remain upright, so he puts one foot in front of the other. Sokka doesn’t even see him, walking side by side with Soja. Their heads are bowed in quiet conversation, and Zuko’s gut twists as he watches them disappear around another corner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This has been another installment of “I lost motivation to continue writing this so I’m posting it publicly in hopes that the internet will give me motivation again.” If you have thoughts on where this should go next... pls throw me a comment


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